Nollaig Shona Daoibh,

(Happy Christmas To All)

Irish American Mom

Dublin Coddle is a traditional Irish dish primarily made by true blue Dubliners. It’s a one-pot wonder that combines potatoes, sausages, bacon and onions. Cooked slowly in water or broth the result is a filling stew loved throughout Ireland’s capital city.

For real Dubs, coddle is a nostalgic dish. One that reminds them of childhood, and the tastes of home.

But this isn’t just a dish from the past. It’s alive and well and continues to be made in Dublin homes to this very day.

Confession time – I didn’t grow up eating coddle on a regular basis. My mother was born in County Cork so coddle did not feature on our weekly dinner menus. Now don’t panic. That doesn’t mean I never enjoyed a good bowl of coddle as a child in Dublin. My best friend’s mam made a mean pot of coddle and I often had the pleasure of joining them for dinner on coddle nights. In fact, I had a habit of hanging around hoping for a bowl whenever I sniffed a pot of coddle simmering away on the cooker.

Made year round in Ireland, even in the summer months when temperatures rarely hit the 70’s, it’s perfect for St. Patrick’s Day or on cold, rainy evenings when living stateside.

My mother’s aunt married a Dublin man and she quickly became a coddle expert. My mother married a fellow Corkonian, so my dad never requested coddle dinner. And on the occasions I was treated to a lovely bowl of coddle by my great aunt or cousins, I devoured it, licked my lips and always asked for seconds.

Irish sausages, often called bangers, are key to a good coddle. Their flavor is far more subtle and less spicy than an American sausage, a bratwurst or a kielbasa.

This is true Dublin cooking. You can’t beat the healing properties of a good stew when feeling under the weather, and for Dubliners in the middle of flu season, coddle is their stew of choice when on the mend.

I call this Dublin stew, not Irish stew. Sausages and rashers would have been readily available in Dublin in years gone by. Real Irish stew calls for mutton or lamb and this would have been more expensive in the city than in rural areas. As a result, lamb stew featured more often on the menu in Irish farmhouses than in the city years ago.

Back then sausages were inexpensive and when combined with plenty of potatoes and onions it was easy to feed a big family of children (or ”a big slue of childer’ as might be said in Dublin) with a simple pot of Dublin coddle.

This is a hearty dish with humble origins. Everyday cooking at its best, and comfort food if you hail from Dublin.

Coddle lovers have their own tips and tricks, and do’s and don’ts for making this beloved dish. Everyone’s rules are based upon how their mammy and their mammy’s mammy before them made coddle.

One of the big questions is whether the sausages should be browned before stewing them. Some coddle eaters would be aghast at the idea of first browning the sausages in a pan before making coddle.

In fact, if you ask a Dubliner how to make coddle, you will probably be told to throw sausages, rashers, onions, and potatoes into a pot, sprinkle them with pepper and half cover them with water. Boil it up, then simmer it for two hours until the spuds are tender.

Now this method works well to make sure the sausages and rashers are cooked through, but there’s something about pale, anemic looking sausages that I don’t find appetizing. My trick is to brown the outside of the sausages before adding them to the stew to make the color palate of the final product more eye appealing.

Another tip is not to bother adding salt. The rashers are plenty salty without overdosing on Ireland’s favorite seasoning. Plenty pepper is needed to give this stew a little kick.

Also, traditional coddle was usually made with water. I like the added depth of flavor chicken stock gives to the dish. Beef stock works well too, but if you’re a purist, then stick to plain old water for your coddle.

And so without further ado, here’s my recipe and step-by-step photo tutorial for good, old Dublin coddle.

Cooking Directions for Dublin Coddle:

A quick disclosure note (legally required for affiliate links): The links below for the Food Ireland website are affiliate links, which means I receive a commission if you choose to make purchases using these links. Thanks in advance if you do utilize these links for your Irish shopping.

I always start by browning the sausages in a hot pan with a tiny little bit of oil. I like a brown tinge on my sausages, rather than a pale white sausage in coddle.

If you prefer you can brown the sausages under a hot broiler (or grill, as we would say in Ireland. A quick vocabulary note – a grill is a barbecue and a broiler is a grill on the other side of the Atlantic).

Now be careful not to overcook the sausages. Just a quick minute or two on all sides to brown the outer layer. If you cook them through they’ll be a little dry in the stew.

Put the sausages to the side as you prepare the veggies and bacon for the coddle.

Peel and slice the onions, separating the pieces into rings.

Some people like to cut the onions in wedges, but my preference is for onion rings.

Peel the potatoes and cut them into one inch wedges.

Some coddle cooks slice the potatoes into rings but I prefer chunkier potatoes in my stews.

Now prepare the bacon or rashers by slicing them into one inch pieces.

Feel free to remove the rinds, but I like the flavor the bacon fat adds to the coddle.

Canadian bacon is a good substitute for Irish rashers, but if you like the taste of real Irish rashers they are available from the Food Ireland website.

Now it’s time to layer the ingredients. Start by putting half the onions at the bottom of a large dutch oven or stew pot. Next add four of the sausages and half the bacon.

You can cut the sausages into one inch pieces, but coddle purists keep the sausages whole.

Now add half the parsley and grind some black pepper on top.

Layer half the potatoes on top of the onions and meats.

Now repeat the layering again, starting with onions, then sausages and bacon, parsley and pepper, and finally potatoes.

Add the stock or water and bring to a boil. Once the liquid boils lower the heat and simmer for 2 hours on the stove top.

Alternatively, you can transfer the oven proof dutch oven to a pre-heated 300 degree Fahrenheit oven and let it cook slowly for 2 hours.

The liquid should not completely cover the ingredients but should be about an inch below the top. If the liquid reduces too much during cooking top it off with a little more hot broth or boiling water.

Coddle is cooked low and slow. A gently simmer is all it takes for all these delicious flavors to meld together.

In Ireland, many like to add some brown sauce over the top of their coddle. That’s YR sauce, Chef sauce or HP sauce is the English version. I didn’t have any on hand for my photo shoot. But a discussion of Ireland’s favorite condiment, brown sauce, is a good topic for a post on another day.

Anyways, there you have it. My version of Dublin Coddle – a wholesome, hearty, everyday stew enjoyed for centuries by Dubliners.

So why not join me as we explore the history of the Ha’penny Bridge and show off its stunning beauty with photos taken from every angle under the sun and the moon.

And believe me, this bridge really is a nighttime beauty. But first a little history…..

A Little History of the Ha’penny Bridge:

The Ha’penny Bridge was first erected in 1816 by William Walsh, a.k.a. “Leaky Walsh.” His dubious nickname referred to the leaky boats he owned to ferry Dubliners across the Liffey from one side of the city to the other.

Leaky Walsh was not so leaky when it came to money. As an alderman of the City of Dublin, he received the grand sum of £3,000 in compensation when his dangerous ferry service was eliminated.

Walsh was also granted a lease on the bridge which ran for a full century, and given the authority to charge a toll for crossing the bridge.

He charged the sum of half-a-penny for the journey each way. Hence, Dubliners came to refer to the bridge as the Ha’penny Bridge.

Half -a-penny does not seem like a huge sum of money to us today. But back when the bridge was built it left a fair hole in the pocket of a laborer, who might only earn 6 or 8 pence in a day. In old texts you’ll see this written as 8d. (d. denoted pennies in old English money.)

This half-a-penny toll was the same as the price of a one-way ticket on Walsh’s leaky ferries. And the Liffey is not that wide a river. Walsh would have had dollar signs in his eyes if he ever laid eyes on the massive Ohio River in Louisville, my American home.

For 103 years Dubliners forked over the half penny bridge tax to cross the river at this point. The toll on the crossing was not eliminated until 1919.

A Bridge of Many Names:

Having been born and reared in Dublin, I have only ever known this bridge as the Ha’penny Bridge. In Dublin we pronounce this shortened version of half as “Haypenny.”

As I did a little research to write this blog post I was surprised to learn the “Ha’penny Bridge” is not its legal name.

Officially known as the Liffey Bridge, this boring name was assigned in 1922 when Ireland’s new government was busy renaming streets and structures that bore very English sounding names.

Before that this Liffey toll bridge was named the Wellington Bridge. The year before the bridge opened in 1816, the famous, Irish-born Duke of Wellington had defeated Napoleon at the Battle of Waterloo.

Other names for the bridge were the Triangle, Metal or Iron Bridge.

Iron Structure of the Ha’penny Bridge:

Whatever name this beloved bridge may be called, there is one undeniable fact. It provides a vital pedestrian link across the River Liffey.

In the days when it was a toll bridge, penny pinching Dubliners avoided this crossing as much as possible. Average daily footfall was only about 450. Today, over 30,000 people traverse this structure on a daily basis.

It’s nice to see this first, cast iron, metal bridge ever erected in Ireland has stood the test of time. The ironworks were completed in Coalbrookdale in Shropshire, England, and assembled to span the Liffey in a single elliptical arch.

By the turn of the millennium the bridge was looking the worse for wear. In 2001 it was closed for a complete overhaul, with repair and renewal of the cast iron arches and ornate railings. Luckily the restoration contractors were able to reuse 98% of the bridge’s original cast iron.

The craftsmanship of the iron work is evident to this very day. The quality and durability of Georgian structures is a credit to the workers of centuries past.

Saved By The 1916 Rebellion:

And here’s another interesting little tidbit I read in an article published by the Irish Independent yesterday. Believe it or not, the events of the Easter Rising of 1916 may actually have saved this bridge from demolition.

1916 was the year control of the Ha’penny Bridge was handed over from William Walsh’s descendants to Dublin City Council. Some members of the council deemed this bridge to be ugly and discussed plans to remove it.

However, before they could put their demolition plans into action, the rebels of 1916 refocused their attentions to the rebuilding of the many inner city structures destroyed during the Rebellion.

A Nightime Beauty:

And so, the Ha’penny Bridge survived the events of 1916 and has stood the test of time for an additional one hundred years. Dubliners today cherish this lovely bridge, which is a real beauty, especially at night.

This shot is one of my favorites. The bridge looks so romantic in the evening light.

Lovers’ Locks:

And I’m not alone in thinking the Ha’penny Bridge looks romantic. In recent years couples have started a new custom of putting padlocks on the railings as symbols of their undying love.

Apparently this tradition originated in Eastern Europe. Lovers inscribe their names or just their initials on metal padlocks, then stroll hand-in-hand to lock them around the railings of the bridge. And here’s the supposedly romantic piece – together they throw away the key into the river, as a symbol of their everlasting love.

The Fairy Wood of Corkagh Park in Clondalkin is a magical place, and today I’m going to take you on a photo tour of this enchanted forest.

Last year in late December, just before Christmas, my little girl and I went on a quest to discover fairies in the woods. Her Nana sent her an Irish Fairy Door as a gift, and from the moment she laid eyes on the little arched portal, she was under a magical spell.

Now Nana lives in Dublin so a quick day trip to the fairy woods was easy, once hats and scarves were donned to combat a crisp, cold day.

These Irish fairies guard their woods all year round.

Most of the trees had completely shed their leaves, making them eerily appealing. Spotting the fairy homes perched high amongst the branches was soooo much fun.

We met two elderly women on our trails, beaming from ear to ear. They were unaware of the fairy surprises awaiting them in the woods, and they told us they both felt like little girls again, as they searched from tree to tree for fairy doors.

Síog (pronounced shee-oh-gh) is the head fairy in this neck of the woods and her fancy toadstool door was easily spotted.

The sugar sweet fairy, Maple, simply loves treats! This clever little fairy placed her door on a crack in the bark, close to the sweet sap of the tree.

Each fairy shares information about the special job he or she performs. Bart is the protector of all the trees in the fairy woods.

My little girl ran from tree to tree excitedly discovering each new door and fairy name. At the foot of a very large trunk we discovered this fairy meeting spot.

We believe the fairies of this wood hold their council meetings here. What a perfect place for a snack or a picnic. I’m sure the fairies would enjoy munching stray crumbs.

And fairies love toadstools. We found quite a few wooden toad stools just perfect for perching and pondering magical matters.

But our favorite tree of all was the “Worry Tree”. You simply lay your palm on the worry plaque, whisper your worries to the listening tree, and all those crazy problems magically disappear.

And you can always mail your letters to the fairies in these magical woods.

We imagined Twinkle watching over us with a sparkle in her eyes. She’s an expert at making people smile. She helps the light to shimmer though the branches and leaves, even on a winter’s day.

Ray picked a tree that faces east, so that he can see the rising sun every morning. There’s a moonlight fairy, and a storm fairy who’s actually very calm, and not at all afraid of bad weather.

This great grandfather red wood tree guards the entrance to the fairy wood. It is one of just a few of these California natives to be found in Ireland. And as we hugged this giant, we felt a magical connection to our home in America.

We loved the Fairy Wood of Corkagh Park. A big thank you to South Dublin County Council for inviting the fairies into these woods and for sprinkling a little bit of fairy dust in this suburban Dublin park. It truly is a wonderful place.

The Howth peninsula forms the northern arm of Dublin Bay and was one of my favorite childhood haunts.

Less than 5 miles from where I grew up in Raheny, I loved to explore the hills and cliff paths of this majestic headland.

I was looking through photos on my external hard drive the other day when I rediscovered some shots I took from the hill of Howth on a bright sunny day.

And so I thought why not take a little trip to Howth Hill. The views from the top are spectacular. Dublin Bay and the city stretch out before you to the south, and the islands of Lambay and Ireland’s Eye dot the Irish Sea to the north.

When sauntering between Shielmartin and Howth Hill the right-of-way meanders across Howth Golf course.

From every corner of the course golfers can admire the city.

This little cottage on the golf course caught my eye. I’m not sure if anyone ever lived here since this old home is boarded up, but that little bench beneath the window is an ideal spot for a little rest, especially for anyone longing to drink in the beauty of Dublin Bay.

And boy, oh boy, is Dublin beautiful when the sun shines.

The views along the hilly path to the summit of Shielmartin Hill take in the entire sweep of Dublin Bay.

Shielmartin Hill rises to a height of 535 feet, and the Ben of Howth is a towering 561 feet, so I suppose the term “mountain views” may be a little bit of a stretch.

The Ben is the highest point on the peninsula, but is crowned with communication masts.

But whether these elevations are hills or hummocks, the panaromic views from the top are well worth the climb.

Gorse and heather blanket these hills, adding a magnificent splash of color.

The Dublin and Wicklow Mountains rise in the distance, with Dalkey Island marking the southern arm of the bay.

On a clear day the north Dublin coast line from Portmarnock and onto Malahide, Donabate, Skerries and beyond are clearly visible. If you’re very lucky even the Mourne Mountains in County Down can be seen.

Howth harbor is a picturesque fishing village with it’s two piers reaching towards the island of Ireland’s Eye, sheltering the ships and boats moored in its waters.

Just beyond Ireland’s Eye lies the larger Lambay Island, home to an ancient monastry founded by Saint Colmcille. The Vikings arrived here in later years, and as a child I imagined marauding Vikings landing on Lambay’s shores. In 1904 the island was purchased by the Baring family and they live there to this very day.

I have lovely memories of rambling across the bens of Howth with my grandaunt when I was a little girl. Rain or shine we trudged along these hilly paths, singing songs, reciting poetry and telling tales.

These hills are formed of quartzite, a magnificent rock of iron infused hues. The quartzite of howth is beautiful with warm flushed tones of red, golden yellow and a rusty brown. But be fair warned quartzite can be very slippery when wet or frosty. Tread with care on the hills of Howth.

Here’s a little slide show I put together on YouTube with more of the photos I took from Howth Hill ..

And so if you find yourself in Howth, why not take a little saunter across its bens, and savor the beauty of Dublin and beyond.